


Love Not Found

by XetterYeonma (keusenon)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nekoma, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8192021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keusenon/pseuds/XetterYeonma
Summary: Kenma broke off contact with everyone he knew, selling his body to the rich and powerful years after high school.However, bonds were still tied to him to the final thread, sending him into a new chapter of his life.[note: Chapters will be short, characters will be gradually added, vent fic so it will be updated randomly.][note 2: main pairing is kuroken but the rest of the nekoma cast is present]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note; mentions of rape and sexual acts, be wary

Kenma is the type of person to not care about love. Not anymore.

“Ahh…nn…”

Romance…

“F-fuck…!”

Platonic…

“Mm, good boy~”

                             Everything is just

                                                                        Not

                                                                                                                   What he wanted anymore.

* * *

 

Kenma lay in the motel bed, the smoke of his current partner wafting through the air as his sausage-like fingers touched his slender yet slightly firm body. He forgot to have pleasure in this line of work, emptying his mind to replace intimacy and love making into nothing but a way to make money.

Two years since high school graduation, two years since he broke off contact with everyone he cared about. He wouldn’t care if he met them again. This was his life now; solitude and pain, with pleasure disappearing with every embrace from a lonely, rich man or woman who desired his body on lonely nights during dark times of the weeks.

He watched as his client turned him over, twisted his body, bent his legs and stretched him out farther than he would’ve liked. He exaggerated moans and movements, his body reacting in a dramatic matter in the way his client loved to hear and see. Anyone could guess that he loved this feeling.

In reality? He didn’t.

Every moment was consensual, yet it was rape to his mental being.

His body belonged to the rich, not himself.

* * *

 

              He heard a knock on the door to his designated motel room. He didn’t get up. It was too early for clients, so he thought it might’ve been some desperate fellow who didn’t care for others, aside from his own needy mass. Perhaps it was a commercialist asshole who did nothing but knock on doors for a living; a sad life, Kenma thought.

              When the knocking didn’t go away, he groaned and finally stood up, grabbing shorts and a sweater to wear to be presentable and seemingly like a college student living in a poor neighbourhood due to financial reasons before opening the door.

“What is it?” He spoke in his hoarse, tired tone. However, his voice dropped as if someone had broken the lever to his mind.

There stood at his doorway, was a face that he thought he would never see again.

The face of the man who was at his side for so long.

“…It’s you.”


End file.
